Dear Jack Gantos,
Last night my son was reading your fabulous book, Dead End in Norvelt. I had the nerve to try to shut off the light. I’ll admit it, it’s a parent thing. I just expected him to be tired. He’d played basketball for about seven hours, had a water fight in the backyard, went out to dinner, and walked the dogs at the beach. Yet, he still clutched your book with a death grip that, while not unusual for him, was a tad fierce for the late hour of the night.
He said, “Seriously Mom, they just pulled a gun! I can’t stop now.”
Damn, Mr. Gantos. That’s genius. I need to put some more gun slinging in my books. I did want you to know that I’ve been experimenting with ancient tea ceremonies where a satellite will blow you to pieces if you screw it up, but no, it didn’t even occur to me to pull a gun. So simple and direct!
That’s what I like about you. You are not afraid. Just wanted to let you know, I’ll let my kid stay up any day of the week reading one of your books. As always, it was a pleasure.
All the best,